Questionable Legality
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: Post-Book of Secrets. Ian escapes from jail and takes someone hostage. Things will start out pleasant...then spiral downwards until he gets what he wants...
1. Parties and Problems

A/N: I couldn't help myself. Yesterday morning, I sat down at my computer. And didn't move pretty much all day. I write fifteen pages of a Word document. First time I actually mostly finished a _story _in one sitting! This isn't going to be a very long fanfic, only about five or six chapters. But it has more Ian and Riley! Yay.

Not related in any way to my completed fic. Still post-Book of Secrets, though. But that's it.

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Isn't that amazing?

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**Parties and Problems**

"Riley, you're going and that's final."

"But _Abigail_!"

"Absolutely not. I'm putting my foot down."

Ben smiled fondly at the argument leaking its way through the kitchen door. There was yet another gala that evening that Riley had been trying to worm his way out of all day. Abigail was making him go, as she usually did. Ben himself wasn't a huge fan of the social events, but he felt obliged to attend them. And he, at least, didn't whine about the tux for hours.

Riley appeared in the hall, looking disgruntled. He saw Ben.

"Your wife is _forcing _me to put on the monkey suit. Again," he complained.

"It's just for a few hours, Riley. Please?" Ben asked.

Riley sighed sadly. "It appears I don't have a choice. She stole the keys to my car. I have to get them back, and the only way to do that is to go to this stupid party."

Ben watched his friend trudge down the stairs, head hung. Riley was just playing it up. He always did. As soon as the gala was over, he'd be fine.

--

The party was grand, fancy, and boring. Ben soon found himself deep in conversation with a group of people he'd never met before, discussing politics. At least, that's what he _thought _they were talking about. He glanced around surreptitiously, trying to find Abigail in the crowd.

As it turned out, she found him.

"Ben!" Abigail called, pushing her way through the crowds to her husband's side. "Ben, you have to come! Something's wrong with Riley!" She began to tug him through the swarms of people. "We were just talking, and he collapsed!"

Ben's heart began to pound, the rate quickening when he saw his best friend lying on the floor, a shattered punch glass beside him.

"Did someone call 911?"

Abigail nodded wordlessly. Ben dropped to his knees and checked his friend's pulse. It was faint, but definitely there. He held his friend's hand until the ambulance arrived. Then he and Abigail followed it to the hospital in their car.

They hurried into the waiting area, rushing to the front desk.

"HeretoseeRileyPoole!" Abigail gasped in one breath.

"Who?"

"Riley Poole! We're – family!"

The woman nodded. "Okay. Just take a seat. I'll let the doctors know you're here."

An agonizingly long time later, the door opened and a doctor poked his head into the room.

"Riley Poole's family?"

Ben and Abigail stood.

"Is he okay?" Ben asked.

The man smiled and nodded, waving to the two of them to follow him into the inner workings of the hospital.

"He's just fine. We have his collapse down to a mixture of exhaustion and overexcitement. No treatment necessary, though we would like to keep him overnight just to make absolutely sure that's all it is." He stopped before a door. "This is him."

Ben turned the knob and pushed the door lightly. It swung open, and Abigail followed him inside.

A very annoyed looking Riley Poole glared at them.

"They want me to stay overnight!" he hissed as if it was a capital crime.

"They want to make sure you're all right," Abigail told him.

"I'm perfectly fine, and ready to go home!"

"One night, Ri," Ben said firmly. "It's not that bad."

"_You _say," Riley muttered.

Ben smiled and squeezed his friend's hand. "On the plus side, you got to miss most of the Gala."

Riley's eyes lit up. "Yeah, that _is_ a good thing."

Abigail kissed the techie on the forehead. "Go to sleep. We'll be by to pick you up in the morning."

"Okay…" Riley said resignedly. "Bye."

He watched as his friends left and turned over, sighing unhappily.

He was _never _going to get to sleep.

--

Riley woke up in the middle of the night. He didn't know what prompted his sudden consciousness, only that he wanted to go back to sleep _right now_.

Vaguely, he heard the door open, and he moaned and turned his face away from the light streaming into the room.

"Don't want any more tests…" he murmured. "'M fine…"

The door closed, and Riley heard a soft chuckle. For some reason, it sent chills down his spine.

"Who is it?" he muttered, opening his eyes cautiously. The room was so dark, all he could see were shadows. That was odd. A nurse would need a light. "What's going on?" He heard the panic rise in his voice.

"Calm down, Riley. We're here to rescue you."

Ian.

Riley gasped.

"I-Ian?" he squeaked. He started to yell, but a hand was clamped over his mouth and a gun pressed into the side of his head. He began to shake violently instead.

"Relax…" Ian told him quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you, Riley."

Riley made a noise halfway between a snort and a terrified whimper.

"If Ben cooperates," Ian amended. "Now, stay still and this'll be all the easier."

The hand was removed from Riley's mouth, but at the same time he felt a sharp pricking in his arm and gasped reflexively as he felt his consciousness slowly melting away into blackness.

The last thing he heard was the ripping of Velcro as they tied him down…

--

"Ben!" Abigail called. "Are you coming to bed?" When there was no reply, she descended the stairs, poking her head into the living room. "Ben?"

Ben was on the couch, staring at the TV. "Uh…" he grunted.

She sighed and entered the room. "Ben, I know you feel bad about Riley being at the hospital, but it isn't your-"

"Abigail, _look_!" he interrupted her.

Confused, Abigail glanced up at the screen. And jumped as Ian stared back at her.

"He's escaped?" she whispered. "Oh no…" Then, at the same time as Ben –

"_Riley!_"

--

They knew they were too late. Even as they pulled up to the hospital, rushed inside, and sprinted to their friend's room…

"Visiting hours are over!" a nurse called, annoyed.

They ignored her and burst through Riley's door.

The bed was gone. Ben's blood ran cold as Abigail gasped.

"Riley…" Ben moaned, putting his face in his hands helplessly.

"Sir, you need to get out _right now_!" The nurse had followed them into the room. Her face paled at the sight of the missing patient. "I-I don't understand!" she gasped.

Abigail stepped around Ben, her eyes roving the room. She sighed and turned to the distraught woman.

"Call the police."

* * *

A/N: And now we have the set-up of the story. So review and I hope to post once a day until it's all up.


	2. Hostage

A/N: Well, I wasn't going to update again today, but as some of you may know, RENT the Broadway goes, well, OFF-Broadway today, and I have really been depressing myself writing sad fanfics and all that. So I needed a short break.

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**Hostage**

When Riley woke up, the first thing he noticed was how dark the room was around him. The air pressed against his eyeballs, suffocating him in its absoluteness. He licked his lips and swallowed, suddenly realizing just how dry his mouth was. He tried to raise his hand to massage his throat, but his arm wouldn't move.

At first, he panicked, thinking his limbs were paralyzed. Then he became aware of straps tying his wrists and elbows down. He tried to move his leg, and found that his ankles, too, were restrained. Pursing his lips, he concentrated on the rest of his body. There was a strap across his chest, another across his waist, more holding him just above the knees. He couldn't move from what he now realized was his hospital bed.

For a moment, absolute terror washed over him. He felt himself begin to hyperventilate, shaking in his bonds. He clenched his teeth, trying to stifle the cry he felt building up inside of him. But it was too late. His lips parted and he let out a single wail.

Seconds later, the door opened and light washed over the room. Footsteps approached Riley from behind, so he couldn't see who it was. He gulped and clenched his fists, trying to control the trembling.

Ian stepped into view, his eyebrows raised and a surprised look on his face.

"I didn't know people could make a sound like that, Riley," he said pleasantly.

Riley glared at him. "W-well, n-now you kn-know…" he muttered, his words shaking even as his heart rate slowed.

"Are you scared of the dark?" Ian asked curiously. Riley turned his face away, clamping his lips shut. Ian smirked. "Have it your way. You look bloody awful, though." He reached for Riley's foot, and the techie tensed, only to relax slightly when the ripping of Velcro revealed the Brit was freeing his foot.

Despite himself, Riley turned back inquisitively. "What…?"

"I didn't bring you here just to keep you tied up the whole time. If you behave, you may roam. But," and he leaned close, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, "if you misbehave…" He pulled his coat aside to reveal a gun tucked into his belt.

Riley shivered. He sat up as the rest of the straps were loosed from his body, realizing with some embarrassment that he was still wearing a hospital gown. Ian seemed to read his mind, for he pointed to a chair on which sat a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a blue hoodie, along with a pair of tennis shoes. Riley recognized the clothing as his own.

"You – you were in my apartment, too?"

Ian shrugged. "You even forgot to lock the door." Riley glared at the older man again, but he seemed completely unperturbed. "Get dressed. The bathroom's the first door on the left, if you need it. And then maybe we can find you something to eat."

Riley hugged himself, his eyes not moving from Ian until the man had closed the door behind him. Then he slowly stood up, clutching onto the bed frame and pondering Ian's words.

_Something to eat_? Not that food didn't sound good. All Riley had had to eat in the past couple of days was Jell-O and Sprite…and they didn't exactly make for a complete meal. But he was reluctant to accept any food from Ian, even though it didn't _seem_ as though the Brit wanted to poison him. Appearances could be deceiving, as was already evident with Ian.

Riley sighed and scooped the clothing into his arms, dressing slowly. He swayed slightly. Whatever had caused him to faint earlier had not entirely left his system, but Riley refused to admit that. He had to be strong. He didn't have a choice. He was a hostage now.

He stumbled to the door, half doubting that Ian had actually left it unlocked. When the knob turned in his hand, he shrugged away his surprise and tripped into the hallway, veering into the restroom. He did his business and splashed water on his face, trying to put some color back in his cheeks. When he realized the effort was futile, he sighed and abandoned the room, continuing down the hall until he reached a large open area that doubled as a kitchen and rec room.

He was halfway surprised at the sight that greeted him. Powell, Viktor, and Shippen slumped on a couch and armchairs, watching a movie on a flatscreen TV. They glanced up and stared at Riley until he looked away, whereupon their gazes returned to the screen.

Ian and Phil were in the kitchen. Ian sipped tea and read the newspaper while Phil messed with some kind of metal instrument on the counter. Riley's stomach turned over when he recognized it as a gun.

Ian looked up and smiled politely. "Riley. Hungry?"

Riley stared blankly at him. Then he muttered cautiously. "Yeah…"

"Good. We ordered pizza. I seem to remember you prefer cheese. There's soda in the fridge. You can have a beer, if you like, but unless your preferences have changed in the last two years, you probably still have an aversion to alcohol. Am I right?"

Riley blinked at the British man. It creeped him out, remembering how they all used to work together for so long. Ian still knew a lot about him, it appeared.

"Right," he murmured. But he didn't move.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Riley, we're not going to suddenly turn on you. For goodness' sake, please do something. Watch TV with the others, read a book or something. We have a whole shelf of them."

Riley watched him silently, than moved with leaden legs to the fridge. He pulled out a Coke and examined it closely. Still sealed. Sighing, he opened it and wandered awkwardly to the bookshelf, pulling out a random book and flopping down in the TV room, a little ways away from the others. They didn't so much as acknowledge his presence.

Dimly, Riley noticed the movie was "Mission Impossible." He flinched. Jon Voight seriously resembled Ben's dad. He did _not _need that reminder at the moment. Instead, he glanced down at the book he'd chosen.

Treasure Island. Of _course._

Abandoning the book and the TV, Riley wandered back down the hall and into his room. Leaving the light on, he shut the door behind himself and slid down the wall, head in his hands.

What could he do? He didn't have his cell phone. It had been on the nightstand in the hospital, so if anyone had it now, it was Ian. He had no way of contacting anyone. Even if he did, he had no idea where he was. And on a different note, Ian wasn't even trying to hurt or kill him. He was so confused.

_Ben…where are you?_

--

"Yes, that's right," Ben confirmed. "Peter, I'm absolutely sure it was Ian who did this."

Sadusky stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And Mr. Howe has yet to contact you, is that right?" At Ben's nod, he sighed. "Any clue as to what he wants?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't know. Revenge, certainly. Money?"

"I hope it's money…" Abigail murmured.

"What do you mean, Dr. Gates?" Sadusky asked in surprise.

She frowned. "If Ian only wants revenge, Ben, how can we bargain for Riley? What if he…what if he wants to kill him? Kill us?"

Ben swallowed. "I won't let that happen."

Abigail whispered. "How can we stop him?"

The phone rang.

Everyone jumped and looked immediately to the phone.

"It – it could be him," Ben muttered.

"Put it on speaker," Sadusky directed.

Ben reached to the monitor and hit a button. The phone cut off mid-ring.

"Hello?" Ben said uncertainly.

"Benjamin."

Ben mouthed 'Ian' to the other two.

"Let him go, Ian," he pleaded aloud.

"You know it isn't that easy, Ben."

"Don't hurt him!" Abigail blurted, clapping a hand over her mouth instantly.

Ian chuckled. "Nice to hear your voice, Dr. Gates. Yes, I know you and Ben tied the knot. I must say, I'm rather disappointed I didn't receive a wedding invitation. And you don't have to worry about Riley's well-being. As we speak, I believe he's eating a slice of pizza and reading a book."

"What?" Ben was caught off-guard.

"I don't want to hurt him, Ben. But whether that remains the case depends on you."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Where we met, Ben. Look around. You'll find a clue. And don't bring the police into this, if you want Riley's situation to stay the same."

There was a click, and a dial tone.

"Where you met?" Abigail wondered. "Where was that?"

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "Ironically, where you and I met. Where it all began."

She raised an eyebrow. "The Archives?"

He nodded. "The Archives."

--

Riley sighed as he watched the final scene of "Ocean's 11" play out onscreen. He really wished the other guys would watch something other than heist movies. They only served to remind him of his predicament.

Riley had remained in his room until the pizza arrived. When he heard the knock on the main door he stood and wandered to his own door, peering through the crack. If only he could somehow signal the pizza deliverer…But that idea was immediately swamped when Riley's view was blocked because Powell was standing guard outside his door. Well, it had been a good idea…

As soon as the pizza guy was gone, Powell left and Riley wandered out to the main room, where he was presented with his own plate of food. Having nothing else to do, he settled down with the rest of the group in front of the TV and read the first few chapters of Treasure Island. Ian left the room once, for just a few minutes, and when he came back Riley could had sworn the Brit kept glancing at him. But he didn't turn full face to look. Ian would win that staring contest.

And now the movie was over and the credits were rolling. Everyone was standing and stretching and Riley suddenly realized how tired he was. He stood, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

The truth was that he remembered all too well similar situations to this one, pre-Templar Treasure. The group would get together to work on some aspect of the hunt, then end the day watching a movie on TV. The only differences between those times and this were that Ben and Shaw were missing and Riley was no longer "one of them." Instead, he was a hostage, forced to be there against his will. A well-treated hostage…but the way Phil put a hand on his shoulder and steered him back to his room proved he was their prisoner. And the click that locked the door…that did, too.

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A/N: Review!


	3. A Dramatic Change

A/N: Next chapter, as promised. Oh - for all of you who thought Ian's behavior too good to be true? Hehe...well, you were right.

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**A Dramatic Change**

"Here's where we met," Ben announced, sweeping his arm dramatically around the vicinity.

Abigail raised her eyebrows skeptically, surveying their surroundings. "On a bench…in front of the Archives building…"

Ben nodded, leaning back on said bench and sighing. "If I could go back to that time and tell myself something, I would warn myself never to get involved with Ian Howe."

"Without him, you may never have found the Charlotte," Abigail reminded her husband, sliding onto the seat beside him. "And thus never have found me."

Ben pecked her on the cheek with a quick smile. "But Riley wouldn't be where he is now, either. Which reminds me…" His eyes skimmed the bench. "Ian must have left something around here for us to find…Aha!" He straightened, having pulled an envelope out from underneath their seat.

Abigail leaned forward as Ben eagerly tore the envelope open and turned it upside down. A small silver key slid out.

"What is it?" Abigail asked.

Ben frowned. "I don't know. It looks like…a house key."

Abigail's eyes widened in realization. "Ben, that's the spare key to Riley's apartment!"

It was.

Ben shrugged and stood. "Then…I guess our next stop is Georgetown."

--

They let themselves into Riley's apartment, flipping on the lights as they went. As usual, the place was a disaster area, littered with clothes, wrappers, half-eaten food, and other junk and paraphernalia. Abigail lifted a banana peel with an "ew" look on her face, tossing it into the overflowing garbage heap.

"This is gross," she muttered. "We'll never find anything Ian might have left us here."

Ben tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Actually…this is Ian we're talking about. He knows Riley. So where would the logical place to leave something be?"

"His computer!" Abigail gasped.

Ben rescued it from a nest of candy bar wrappers and flipped the lid open. The PC was already on. Its screen lit up, revealing an open Word document.

It read:

_Dear Ben,_

_If you've gotten to this, you have a good memory. Congratulations. But now that we've played my little game, it's time to get down to business. I have Riley, and I'm not giving him up until I get what I want. I want what should have been mine - my finder's fee. You're__ going to help me get it. Ever robbed a bank?_

_Here's the real punch: I don't really care if I ruin your life along the way. So for Riley's sake, Ben? I'd get to work._

_-Ian_

Ben groaned and pinched his nose.

"It's money _and _revenge," he moaned to Abigail. "There's no guarantee he'll leave us alone once he gets his compensation. And how the heck am I supposed to rob a bank?"

"Rob a bank?" Abigail asked in alarm. "No, Ben, we need to go to the police-"

"We do that," Ben said, very quietly, "and we never see Riley again."

Abigail bit her lip. "Look, Ben, I know you stole the Declaration of Independence, so if anyone can pull this off, you can…but you had Riley with you then."

"I know," Ben sighed. "I'm not going to be able to do this without him. I just don't know how to convince Ian to let him help."

--

As it turned out, it was very easy to get Ian to allow Riley's help.

"Fine, if you need him, you have him. I can set him up with equipment here and we'll keep in touch."

The problem was Riley himself.

Riley did not emerge from his room the second day, though the door was unlocked. He was not comfortable with the cheerful demeanor his former colleagues, now jailbirds, possessed. All of it was way too good to be true. There had to be a catch.

He found it.

"Nuh-uh. No way! I am _not _helping rob a bank," Riley argued, pressed against the wall several feet away from Ian and Powell, who provided impressive adversaries.

"Don't make this difficult, Riley," Ian growled, his pleasant smile gone and replaced by an ugly sneer.

"I'm not doing it," Riley insisted, shaking where he stood.

Ian pulled out his gun. Riley went pale.

"Yes, you _are_. I'm sorry to resort to this, but you left me no choice."

The Brit nodded at Powell, and before Riley had time to react, the Scotsman had seized him and was dragging him roughly down the hallway, forcing him to sit in a chair in the living area. Riley struggled and protested, but his scrawny limbs were certainly no match for Powell's muscles. Phil appeared then, a stupid grin on his face and a roll of duct tape in his hands. If possible, Riley paled further and squirmed and struggled even harder, but Powell held him down while Phil bound his arms behind the chair and attached his legs to the chair legs as well.

Even then, Riley kicked and bucked, trying to free himself of the chair. The others watched his fruitless struggles in amusement.

"Now." Ian leaned down until he was at eye level with the techie. "I'm going to ask nicely one last time, Riley. Help us do this, and you can go home."

Riley spat in his face.

Ian pulled away and wiped his cheek in disgust.

"Give him some persuasion," he told his henchmen carelessly, leaving the room.

Riley shrank into the chair as Ian's henchmen surrounded it.

"H-Hey, guys…"

He flinched as Phil pulled a strip of duct tape over his lips and twisted it around his head.

The first punch landed on his stomach. Riley cried out, the tape muffling the noise to a squeak. The second punch caught his jaw and sent his world spinning. Everything after that was a blur.

--

Ben and Abigail waited for Ian's call confirming Riley's cooperation.

"You think he'll agree to help?" Abigail asked in a terrified whisper.

"He has to," Ben said confidently. "To save his own life, at least."

The phone rang.

Ben answered it immediately. Abigail leaned in close to hear.

"Hello?"

"Ben," Ian said simply.

"What did he say?" Ben asked. "Will he help?"

"Actually, he flatly refused to be involved in any way. But don't worry, my men have ways of making people cooperate."

Ben's knuckles went white on the receiver. "_What_? You said he wouldn't get hurt!"

"I said he wouldn't get hurt _if you cooperated_. And he's one of _you_. And he's not cooperating. I'll call you later, Ben."

"No, wait, Ian-"

But the other had already hung up.

* * *

A/N: We have ways of making you talk...mwahaha...Ahem. Review?


	4. An Unfortunate Companion

A/N: Sorry for the extra day's wait. Chemistry has become very, very time-consuming very, very fast. I really wanted to update yesterday, but there was simply no time. This is the next-to-last chapter - told you it was short. Mostly, I wrote this story because I had a little idea that I wanted to bring to fruition. I've still got a big idea for a new, hopefully unique National Treasure fic...but that'll take a while!

* * *

**An Unfortunate Companion**

"So, Riley, you change your mind?" Ian asked casually, circling the smaller man tauntingly.

Riley glared at him. He was still tied to the chair, which had been moved out of the main area to his room in the back. His face sported several marks of the encounter with Ian's henchmen. One of his eyes was swelling shut and there were several bruises on his cheeks and jaw. Most likely more on his stomach. He couldn't answer Ian's question because the duct tape was still wound around his face.

"Just nod," Ian told him. "That'll be sufficient."

Riley's glare intensified and he shook his head very firmly, twice. The universal signal for 'no.'

Ian's glare deepened and he crossed the room in two quick strides, backhanding Riley so hard the chair fell over. Riley cried out in pain but refused to let tears fall in front of the Brit. His position hurt, as his right wrist was tied between the chair and the floor.

"Now?" Ian asked him. Riley only stared up at his captor. Ian growled and kicked Riley twice in the stomach. The techie grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. "You'd better rethink your priorities," Ian muttered, shutting the light off and slamming the door, leaving Riley in complete blackness.

He trembled, whimpering in pain. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been watching "Mission Impossible" out in the living room. Now he was tied to an overturned chair, beaten and threatened. Tomorrow – he could be dead.

--

"We're going to have to try a new strategy," Ian murmured to Powell in the kitchen. "The geek obviously isn't going to help us without some real persuasion of his own."

"Who?" Powell asked eagerly.

"I believe it's high time Dr. Gates took a larger role in this scenario."

"The girl? But she's Gates' wife. What makes you think Poole will cooperate if we have her?"

"They're a tight-knit group. He'll care. He'll do it if she begs him to."

"I don't like the idea of hurting a woman…" Powell said uneasily.

Ian shook his head. "Don't be stupid. I have no intention of laying a finger on her." When he saw his henchman's confused expression, he sighed. Imbecile. "Listen very closely. The sight of Riley getting hurt will be sufficient to make Dr. Gates beg him to cooperate. And he will. Not to mention Ben will be that much more cooperative if we have his best friend _and _his wife…"

--

Abigail parked her car in its usual spot near the Archives and made her way quickly to the building. Ben had tried to dissuade her from going to work that morning, but Abigail insisted. Still, the less time spent out in the open, the better. She glanced around, carefully noting her surroundings, and hurried into the building, sighing with relief when she was safely past the security desks.

At lunch, she was much more distracted. A call from Ben had informed her Riley still wouldn't cooperate. Abigail surmised from Ben's tone that this meant more beatings. She was striding along the sidewalk, considering taking the rest of the day off, when she became suddenly aware of someone walking just next to her, matching her pace exactly. She didn't look up until something cold pressed against her thigh.

Slowly, she turned her face upward. Ian grinned down at her.

Oh.

"I-Ian!" she gasped.

"Don't make a scene, Dr. Gates. Just come with us and I promise you won't be harmed."

Abigail didn't see that she had any choice. Two of Ian's henchmen were in view now, shadowing them inconspicuously. And Ian, at least, had a gun.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. Why did Ben always have to be right?

"Good choice." Ian removed the gun but took Abigail's arm, leading her to a black Escalade parked by the curb. He ushered her into the passenger's seat, producing a pair of handcuffs and securing her hand to the seat belt. Then he manned the driver's seat as his henchmen – Powell and Viktor, Abigail thought – piled into the back.

Abigail kept her lips locked together as they drove. She tried to memorize the roads, but Ian kept taking nonsensical turns, so she gave up as they slowly left the city and coasted through a nice suburban street to an apartment block. Ian parked the car in a tiny parking lot.

As Ian unlocked her cuff, Abigail looked around at her surroundings, hoping to catch some sign of where she was. But not a single street sign was in sight. And the street was terribly deserted for a family area. Ian steered Abigail into the building and they took the elevator to the top floor. There was only one door. Ian unlocked it and stepped inside.

The apartment was nice. A small kitchen and living area. Two more henchmen were watching something on TV. They grinned at Abigail, and she looked away. Ian led her down the hall to the room at the very end. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack. It was very dark inside.

"Someone wants to see you," he announced unpleasantly.

Abigail cautiously stepped inside, feeling along the wall for a light switch as the door shut and locked behind her. She found it and the room filled with light. At first sight, there was only a bed – a _hospital _bed, Abigail realized with dread. And then she spotted the overturned chair and, most importantly, the person tied to it.

"Riley?"

He shifted and peered at her, horror evident in his eyes. There was no vocal response, however, which made Abigail wonder until she noticed the duct tape. She flew to his side.

"Oh, Riley. Let me help. I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt."

She found the end of the tape and gingerly began to pull. Riley didn't make a sound until the final layer, whereupon he hissed and twisted, trying to get away. Abigail's own eyes filled with tears as Riley's watered in pain. But at last, his mouth was free.

"Thanks…" he murmured, moving his jaw experimentally.

"I'll set you upright and try to get the rest of this off." Abigail grunted with effort as she pulled the chair upright and began to peel at the tape binding Riley's wrists. After a good fifteen minutes, his wrists were free and he helped Abigail with the ankles. Emancipated at last, he kicked the chair against the wall, stretching.

"Thanks," he repeated.

Abigail's eyes narrowed. "Riley Poole, you're an idiot."

He furrowed his brow, obviously surprised. "What?"

"Why wouldn't you cooperate? Why did you refuse to hack into the bank?"

"Um…let me think – because stealing's wrong!" Riley protested sarcastically.

"You could've fooled me! You stole the Declaration of Independence _and _the President's secret book, and _now _you've decided to go all innocent?" Abigail couldn't help screeching.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Riley shouted back, tears shining in his eyes. "I thought they'd just kill me if I said no. I didn't know they'd take you! If I had, I wouldn't have done it this way!" He slumped onto the floor, leaning against the wall.

Abigail's face softened. She sat down next to her friend. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just can't believe you'd put a bank's welfare over your own life."

"It wasn't just that," Riley mumbled. "Ever since I've known them, Ian and the other guys have treated me like some little kid, pushing me around, ignoring me...I wanted them to know I'm not the wimp they thought I was."

Abigail put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Ben will find a way to get us out of this."

For a moment, Riley's usual crooked grin appeared. "Of course he will. Ben's Superman." Then his face crumpled and he hid it in knees.

Abigail put an arm around his shoulder and leaned against him for support.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter is the last. :D Review?


	5. The Heist

A/N: Okay, I know you're not supposed to submit more than one chapter a day for the sake of getting more reviews and/or drawing out the excitement of the story, but I don't care. I wasn't sure if I'd have the time to update tomorrow, and I really wanted to get this last chapter up in order to concentrate on bigger ideas. So here we go!

* * *

**The Heist**

Ben was worried when Abigail didn't return any of the three messages he left on her phone in the early afternoon. He began to panic when she was late getting home. And he absolutely lost it when Abigail's secretary called with the news that Abigail hadn't returned to the office after lunch.

He snatched the phone and dialed Ian.

"Hello?" The lofty British accent made Ben shake in anger.

"Ian, _what have you done_?"

"Calm down, Ben, we wouldn't want you to pop a blood vessel." Ian sounded bored, completely unconcerned with Ben's fury.

"I swear, you lay _one _finger on her and I'll-"

"Would you like to talk to her?" Ian interrupted him. "She's with Riley right now."

"Put her on," Ben said tersely.

There was a scuffling, a whispered threat, and then Abigail's voice spoke in Ben's ear.

"Ben?"

He sighed in relief. "Has Ian hurt you?" he asked urgently.

"No, I'm fine. Riley's not, though…"

Ben's lip curled. "What about him?"

"I'm fine, Ben," Riley piped up. "Abigail's exaggerating."

"Guys, please…do as Ian says," Ben pleaded. "Then he'll take his money and leave. Riley…"

Riley sighed.

Then Ian once more assumed command of the phone. "As you can hear, they're fine, Ben. I just need Riley's cooperation, and we can move along in our little adventure. I'll let you know when that time comes."

Click.

--

"Will you help us, Riley?" Ian asked menacingly, Shippen and Phil flanking him. "Or do we have to make a mess of this in front of Dr. Gates?"

Riley stood in front of Abigail, shielding her. "Piss off," he snarled.

Phil lunged forward, but Ian waved him off.

"Last chance, Riley. It's up to you. You and your friends can do this the difficult way or be free by this time tomorrow."

"Riley…" Abigail tugged on her friend's sleeve. "I know you're angry. I know you're hurt. But please, please do what they want. There's no need for anyone to get hurt anymore. _Please_, Riley!"

Riley deflated under the influence of Abigail's pleading.

"Okay," he said wearily. "What do I do?"

"I knew you'd see reason," Ian smirked. "Here's the plan. We've chosen the Bank of America on 17th Street for the burglary. I want you to hack into their system and turn it off. Once you do that, the rest of us will go into the bank, enter the safe, and get the money. Powell will stay in the car with you, and Ben and Dr. Gates come into the bank with us. That way, if the police do come, we've got a way out."

"And then you'll let us go?" Riley demanded. "You'll leave us alone?"

"I swear. It was never my purpose to harm you, Riley. I told you that."

"When do we do it?"

"Tomorrow."

--

Ben paced back and forth in his living room, trying to decide what to do. Ian had just contacted him to inform him that the plan was on. Now, the decision was – police…or no police. Ian had made it quite clear there was to be no police involvement. But Ben didn't trust that Ian would let Riley and Abigail go once he had his money. Surely he'd want to make sure he could get out safely first. Ben wasn't willing to bet lives that Ian would stick to the plan.

He lifted the phone; lowered it. Lifted it; lowered it. Lifted it – and dialed.

Sadusky answered on the second ring.

"Peter, it's Ben. I need you to do me a favor…"

--

The next morning, Riley and Abigail were woken up none too gently and handed breakfast food from McDonalds to eat quickly while Ian and his men put the finishing touches on the plan. Then they were hustled from the building and led down a back alleyway, where a gray van waited, and forced into the back.

The drive seemed to take a long time. There weren't enough seats in the back of the van, so Riley sat on the floor while Ian stood and miraculously kept his footing hanging on to an overhead fixture. Finally, the van slowed and stopped. Most of the men climbed out, lugging their equipment with them. Abigail cast a frightened look back at Riley as she followed Shippen out of sight.

Ian produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Riley's wrist to the van's switchboard.

"Just in case," he explained, ruffling Riley's hair. Riley flinched and pulled away. Ian laughed and hopped out of the van, closing the doors behind him.

Powell handed Riley a standard laptop.

"You know what to do."

Riley switched the computer on and waited tensely while it booted up. Then his fingers flew expertly over the keyboard, his eyes barely analyzing each popup reading before he reacted to it. He bit his lip in intense concentration, trying to ignore Powell breathing down his neck.

A few taps later, he was inside, and a couple of clicks assured him the security systems were down.

"It worked," he muttered.

Powell reached for his walkie-talkie.

"Ian…yeah, it worked. We're in."

"_Get the PC back_," Ian's voice crackled.

"Okay. Over and out."

Powell reached for the laptop, and Riley made a split-second decision. He raised the computer and bashed Powell in the face with it. The man fell to the floor of the van, apparently unconscious.

Riley immediately set back to work, reactivating the security alarms and cameras at the bank. His readings now told him the alarms were going off inside the building. He crossed his fingers that Ben and Abi could get out all right.

Ian's voice crackled over the talkie once more.

"_Powell, you idiot, _what _is he doing!?"_

Riley manned the device. "What "he" is doing, Ian, is busting your butt." He snarled.

He heard Ian roar on the other end. "_I am going to _KILL _you, Poole!_"

Uh-oh. Riley flung the talkie down and immediately began frisking Powell's pockets.

_Find the key, find the key, find the key…_

He found a small key that looked like it would fit the handcuffs, and, with shaking fingers, tried to free himself. But he was trembling so badly he dropped the object. Swearing fluently, he scrabbled for it and forced his hands to remain still, twisting the key and letting the cuffs drop from his wrist with a snick.

He turned just in time to see Powell's fist flying toward his face. The man's blow caught him in the cheek and sent him flying into the doors. He twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. He was trapped.

As Powell advanced on him, there was a squeak and Riley suddenly fell outside as one of the doors flew open. His relief quickly turned to terror when he saw Ian standing over him. He scrambled backwards, ignoring the aches and pains in his limbs, and stood, backing away from the red-faced man.

"You should have let me get away with it, Riley," Ian spat, advancing on the smaller man. "I was going to let you move on with your pathetic little life. But now I'm going to kill you instead."

From the corner of his eye, Riley spotted a large crowd quickly rounding the corner. He recognized most of them as FBI. Ben and Abigail were among them, horror evident on their faces. At least they were okay.

Ian brandished his gun and pointed it at Riley's forehead.

There was a gunshot and a scream.

Riley stared in shock as Ian crumpled to the ground not three feet in front of him, blood slowly spreading from his body.

"Wh-wh-what...?" His legs began to shake. Seconds later, he felt warm arms around him.

"Shh, it's okay. Relax. It's alright," Abigail whispered in his ear.

Ben put a hand on his shoulder. "It's over, Riley. It's over."

Riley tore his eyes away from Ian's body. "Over?" he whispered.

They smiled gently.

"You're safe. You're coming home with us, Riley."

Home. He felt relief seep through him.

"No hospitals?" he asked suspiciously.

Ben laughed. "You really do need one…but I suppose we can figure something out."

"Thanks, Ben."

"Now, come on. Let's go."

* * *

A/N: And they all lived happily-ever-after! Well...at least until this anst-loving author comes up with another way to torture Riley! :D


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